The movie is based on a true story. A nun was raped, beaten, and murdered in her convent bedroom in Amarillo, Texas, on Halloween night 1981. The police arrested Johnny Frank Garrett, a developmentally challenged (possibly) 17-year old. Johnny maintained his innocence throughout but was found guilty and sentenced to death. The trial was a quickie featuring a corrupt D. A., inept defense counsel, a psychic, suppressed evidence, and an impatient jury all too eager to get home for dinner or maybe to church for a prayer meeting.
On the night of his execution ten years later -- he now looks like Charles Manson -- he scribbles out a florid, over-the-top letter damning the people and their families who helped send him to his demise, putting a curse on them and their future generations.
And here's where the what-if starts. What if his spirit or whatever possessed him came back for actual vengeance?
The filmmakers have the answer. They start by killing a few of those on Johnny's "cursed list." First his grade school teacher and a character witness in the trial - apprently not very helpful to his case - commits suicide in front of her elementary school students using pencils, of all things.
An 80-year old "church lady" juror tumbles down a flight of stairs in the dark. The husband of a psychic involved in the trial is killed in a suicide car crash.
One of the jurors, loving father and husband Adam Redman (hunkish Mike Doyle) engages in some dot-connecting and takes it upon himself to break the curse when his son is suddenly struck with nightmares, seizures, and a life-threatening heart ailment with just days to live. Adam, you see, was the lone holdout for not guilty, but quickly, weakly folded under pressure from the other eleven jurors.
The violence and creepiness escalate as Adam tracks down another possible suspect and confronts the cartoonishly evil district attorney Danny Hill (Sean Patrick Flannery).
The movie throws off a heavy handed Texas Gothic vibe. The flashback scenes are done in a vague sepia tone. The jury looks like something out of rural Texas 1950. Some of the homes and buildings look dated and cluttered. Kudos to Shreveport, Louisiana for serving as a spooky stand in for Amarillo. Cult classic Carnival of Souls also gets a mention in a seedy motel room segment.
To be sure, the acting is often over-wrought. The psychic, played by Sue Rock, is especially outlandish. The D. A., who has an oddly Deep South, not West Texas accent, is deliciously, comically malevolent. The teacher is in - what is the clinical term? - stage five cray-cray.
But the real problem which prevents this from being better than a 6-rated film, is Johnny, played by Devin Bonnée. If he is cursing people, yet is apparently a good soul since he did not murder the nun, why not start by offing the D. A. and a few of the police? Why go after some old lady juror who was just acting on the evidence presented? Or the little boy who had no direct connection to the trial, who was not even born? And if he has such beyond-the-grave superpowers, why not out the actual killer?
So, it's entertaining in a mindless sort of way. I saw it on a bad-weather Saturday night. Good stay-at-home viewing for when you want to just zone out and not think very much.
On the night of his execution ten years later -- he now looks like Charles Manson -- he scribbles out a florid, over-the-top letter damning the people and their families who helped send him to his demise, putting a curse on them and their future generations.
And here's where the what-if starts. What if his spirit or whatever possessed him came back for actual vengeance?
The filmmakers have the answer. They start by killing a few of those on Johnny's "cursed list." First his grade school teacher and a character witness in the trial - apprently not very helpful to his case - commits suicide in front of her elementary school students using pencils, of all things.
An 80-year old "church lady" juror tumbles down a flight of stairs in the dark. The husband of a psychic involved in the trial is killed in a suicide car crash.
One of the jurors, loving father and husband Adam Redman (hunkish Mike Doyle) engages in some dot-connecting and takes it upon himself to break the curse when his son is suddenly struck with nightmares, seizures, and a life-threatening heart ailment with just days to live. Adam, you see, was the lone holdout for not guilty, but quickly, weakly folded under pressure from the other eleven jurors.
The violence and creepiness escalate as Adam tracks down another possible suspect and confronts the cartoonishly evil district attorney Danny Hill (Sean Patrick Flannery).
The movie throws off a heavy handed Texas Gothic vibe. The flashback scenes are done in a vague sepia tone. The jury looks like something out of rural Texas 1950. Some of the homes and buildings look dated and cluttered. Kudos to Shreveport, Louisiana for serving as a spooky stand in for Amarillo. Cult classic Carnival of Souls also gets a mention in a seedy motel room segment.
To be sure, the acting is often over-wrought. The psychic, played by Sue Rock, is especially outlandish. The D. A., who has an oddly Deep South, not West Texas accent, is deliciously, comically malevolent. The teacher is in - what is the clinical term? - stage five cray-cray.
But the real problem which prevents this from being better than a 6-rated film, is Johnny, played by Devin Bonnée. If he is cursing people, yet is apparently a good soul since he did not murder the nun, why not start by offing the D. A. and a few of the police? Why go after some old lady juror who was just acting on the evidence presented? Or the little boy who had no direct connection to the trial, who was not even born? And if he has such beyond-the-grave superpowers, why not out the actual killer?
So, it's entertaining in a mindless sort of way. I saw it on a bad-weather Saturday night. Good stay-at-home viewing for when you want to just zone out and not think very much.